A Game of Dragons
by Ulquiorra Potter
Summary: Harry's world is turned upside down the week before the World Cup. Alone with only Dobby in a magical tent, Harry learns of his ancestors, the Peverells and the Targaryens; Death and Dragons. Things get more complicated when he begins having visions of a former life as a Conqueror astride a massive dragon. Things only get harder when he learns his Sister-Wives have returned.


**Author's Note**: Its been a while since I wrote anything, am I right? I figured I would take some time to work on something that I had been wanting to write for a while and finally found a way to do it! This story was inspired by WhiteTigerWolf's: The MILF and the Veela. I strongly suggest you check it out. It is also partially based of WhiteTigerWolf's challenge, Conqueror's Reborn, where Aegon and his sister-wives are reborn in the wizard world with Harry being Aegon.

I hope you all enjoy and now, lets get onto the story.

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><p>Harry could have swore vehemently when he laid eyes on the tent Sirius had got him for the week. For his birthday, his godfather had managed to purchase a ticket for the Quidditch World Cup, and a magical tent to spend the week leading up to the match camping in. He hadn't expected a tent that stood roughly four stories tall and resembled a medieval castle, plus it was larger on the inside then it was outside! Why in the world did he need turrets and guard towers on his tent?<p>

Worse yet were the decorations. Golden lightning bolts flew in the wind on black banners, while gargoyles loomed off the the guard towers, their stones eyes watching all those who passed by. Many of the wizards and witches who passed by looked up at the tent in something akin to shock, though Harry did his best to ignore it. Releasing a sigh, Harry once more turned his attention to the letter in his hands that had been delivered by a rather flamboyant toucan just days before.

_'Dear Harry,_

_I'm glad to see you are discouraged about having to return to the Dursleys, however, I have noticed that you are rather uptight. Come on, where is that Potter flair that your father and ancestors were known for? How do you think your mother and father would feel to see how world weary you already are? Well, as your beloved godfather, I must do something about this._

_So, for your birthday, I managed to get something I knew you would love. Something to make you lighten up, dear godson; a Quidditch World Cup ticket! Aren't I an amazing godfather? I even managed to get you a magical tent. Its bigger on the inside and you should take full advantage of this! You'll be arriving by a portkey that will delivered to your home by owl one week before the match and I expect you to hold wild parties young man. I'm Sirius... get it?_

_Your mom thought that joke was lame too._

_I want you to live though, Harry. Your a kid for Merlin's sake, have some fun! Use that detestable fame to your advantage damn it and get laid! Don't wait. You never know when you'll be tossed in Azkaban or murdered or driven horribly insane. You have to live while you can Harry, trust me, I know these things. You'll be in a rare position for the week, just you and a certain House-Elf who is quite attached to you, for a whole week while surrounded by birds from different countries! USE YOUR TIME WISELY!_

_I have to go Harry. My eighteen year old, hot as hell masseuse is here to give this old man a rub down, and I'm sorry but I'm not going to let that get away from me._

_Enjoy your life,_

_Snuffles.'_

With a groan, the young wizard made his way inside the tent to see just what he had to deal with. He was stunned to see a grand entrance way with walls of simmering and polished oak and a floor of marble and onyx. Lining the walls were amazing portraits of nights clashing valiantly in tournaments, or fighting dragons or even the terrifying nundu of Africa.

For a boy who had grown up inside a cupboard, the lavishness of his tent was dizzying and he had only just stepped inside. Deciding to see what else lay in store for him, the Boy-Who-Lived made his way through the castle shaped, mansion sized tent. There was a ballroom, at least twelve massive bedrooms, not including the Master bedroom which was nearly double the size of the others, and an Olympic sized swimming pool.

As he made his way up to the tallest turret, he found it to double as a Owl Room and from its vantage point he could see clear across the campgrounds and over the other tents. The only other tent that was near his in size was the one set up beside his own. It was two floors tall, complete with a balcony, chimney, a hedge wall and oddly enough, peacocks tethered here and there in front of its flaps.

What made the fourteen year old, raven haired boy stop though, was the view around back of the peacock tent. A woman, with hair the color of spun gold, was laying out on a rug that looked more expensive then the whole of Little Whinging. Her tanned body was stretched out under the blazing summer sun and she was stunning. Long tan legs were twitching to and fro as the blonde haired woman lay with her eyes closed, a harp playing quietly near her head.

A green set of bikini bottoms were stretched over her wide hips beneath her flat stomach. What stopped the boy was the lack of a matching top. Her breasts were large, and though Harry didn't know anything about cup sizes, he knew they would easy spill out over his hands if he held them. Her nipples were a dark pink color, and the boy wizard didn't see a single tan line across her glorious unbound chest.

Confusion roared inside the wizard's head as he saw the witch's body. He had never seen a girl without clothes before, had never really thought about it. He had been raised in a sheltered life, first by oppression with the Dursleys and then the unflattering school uniforms of Hogwarts. So now that he was looking a naked woman, he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Did he try to say something suave, or just cover his eyes and pretend it never happened?

His eyes, which had been traveling up and down the strange woman's body, suddenly saw a flash of blue colder than any glacier which froze him to the core. The woman, whoever she was, was staring back at him. While her eyes weren't narrowed, they were cold, but seemed to be looking at him with some interest. Her right eyebrow was raised as though questioning him on just what he was doing.

Gulping, the boy wizard turned and fled back into his tent, nearly tripping on his own feet as he made his way back inside. Hopefully the blonde haired woman wouldn't be coming for him. He wasn't even allowed to use magic over the summer and would only have Dobby for support if she came after him. As he ran down the stairs of the turret to the top floor of the tent's main structure he could only wonder why he kept getting himself into such situations.

Harry's feet guided him back down the halls of his castle-tent before his emerald gaze fell on something he hadn't noticed before. A black banner was hung on the wall fluttering slightly as it moved even though no wind blew down the hall. A crimson dragon formed a circle on the black background, its three heads open and roaring as its legs bared claws sharp enough to tear any man asunder. Tilting his head to the side, Harry's eyes shifted toward a nearby painting where three people stood in each others grasp.

A man stood out predominantly, his blond hair combed back while a simple circular crown of smokey steel sat upon his brow, fitted with large square rubies. A blond beard stretched across his jaw, neatly trimmed, as he wore armor made of black dragon hide. His purple eyes staring out at the horizon while his right hand rested on a sword that stood to nearly his shoulder in height. His right arm was wrapped around a woman's waist, her body twisted to face his.

Her hair was just as blonde as the man's had been, her eyes the same shade as well. Harry could tell right away they were siblings, but the way the two held each other seemed to depict something of a closer bond. Her tight black leather breeches seemed to have been painted on to her legs and ass, as her hands rested on her brother's chest as she stared out on the horizon much the same as he did. Her long blonde waist-length hair blowing in the breeze behind her.

Another sister stood behind them, her long blonde hair twisted into multiple braids that spilled down her back. Like her brother she wore armor, only chain-mail instead of the man's heavy plate, but covered it in a robe of black and red. A sword, smaller than the man's, was held in both her hands her face set into a frown along with his, instead of smirking like her sisters. She was obviously the more level headed of the two sisters.

Harry wondered why such a portrait would be hanging so near the master bedroom of the tent that Sirius had bought him. Another banner further on though caught his attention as well. Again it was black with a white triangle enveloping a circle with a line bisecting both. Walking a little further on, he saw a portrait of three men, with hair as black as his own standing proudly on a bridge crossing a river. A figure that reminded Harry of a Dementor only a thousand times worse loomed over the three, its hands were made of bones and seemed to reach for the three as though hungry.

"Dobby," Harry called out, and almost immediately was rewarded with the sound of the tiny elf popping in beside him. Turning his head, Harry took in the sight of the elf that nearly killed him two years ago. Dobby had on a number of hats and socks that were horribly mismatched and clashed against each other. "Dobby, what are these banners and portraits doing in a recently bought tent?"

The little worker rubbed his hands together as his tennis-ball like eyes watched his new master. "Great Harry Potter Sir, Dobby is not buying this tent," the elf said carefully. "When Great Harry Potter Sir's dogfather asked Dobby to be getting a tent, Dobby is finding this one in Great Harry Potter Sir's family vault," the little guy admitted. "Theses banners are being the Great Harry Potter Sir's ancestors."

Harry turned his attention back to the two banners with narrowed eyes.

"The dragonses is House Targaryen," Dobby said with some fear in his voice as he looked at the three headed beast. "They is coming to our world by a son, Aerion Targaryen," Dobby said conspiratorially to the wizard beside him. "He was thinking he was a dragon and drank a potion of great fire. The potion though is bringing him here in Floo Fire.

"He is marrying the Dark Lady, and having children of fair hair," Dobby continued. "Dobby's old masters were descended from the one who called himself Brightflame as well," he said with a wince as he thought of his old masters. "Dobby is learning much about Brightflame when he is younger. The Targaryens could be commanding dragons," he said in a whisper. "They is conquering their old world and becoming kings."

'_Well, that certainly explains the Malfoy's high horse_,' Harry thought with a roll of his eyes.

He noticed Dobby's fearful eyes turn to the bisected triangle and circle and heard the little elf gulp. "Longs and longs ago, three brothers of power were born to the Peverell's, bastard line of the Conqueror called William. It is being said they met the one who waits for all and bested him, Great Harry Potter Sir. He is giving them a boon as a plan of revenge. The oldest is asking for a wand that cannot be bested, and is killed in his sleep for it. The second is asking for a way to talk to the dead, and is hanging himself when he learns they don't belong in this world. The third brother is hiding, and is meeting the Reaper as an old friend, passing down an invisibility cloak to his children."

"That is just..." Harry started in shock. Could any of that had been true? It all sounded so farfetched but... he had the cloak that had been his fathers. Could it have been a gift from some eternal taker of souls?

"Amazing isn't it," a cold feminine voice said from nearby. Whipping around, Harry and Dobby both stood in shock at seeing the woman from the backyard of their neighbors tent. A green robe was pulled over her shoulders, closed around the waist but revealing her ample cleavage and long legs. Her cold eyes shifted from Harry to the banners on the walls before landing on Dobby who squeeked in terror.

"Great Harry Potter Sir," Dobby whispered in fear. "It is being Dobby's old mistress, Narcissa Malfoy."


End file.
